


A Twist in Fate

by emryskynobi



Series: The Multi-Verse of STAR WARS [5]
Category: Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and sad, Gen, Massive canon divergence from Jedi Apprentice onwards, OOCharacter Behavior because life paths are different, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Please do not post on another site, Qui-Gon's life path is kinda different from The Phantom Menace because Obi-Wan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23474830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emryskynobi/pseuds/emryskynobi
Summary: Disclaimer:  I don’t own this stuff.  George Lucas created it and Disney owns it.Due to certain circumstances, Obi-Wan did not complete his training under Qui-Gon.  Making a decision, he joined the Jedi Agricorp and has been living a quiet life.  Years later, he receives a surprise he wasn’t expecting.  (Not like that.)
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: The Multi-Verse of STAR WARS [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662073
Comments: 11
Kudos: 45





	1. In Which It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> “TPM” happened, just differently, as you will see. When I wrote this, I didn’t know too much about the JA books, so any mistakes in the time line/places is mine. And because they are no longer considered total canon, my library got rid of most of the books. I will be using some Earth animals, plants, food, etc occasionally.

* * *

_Strangely enough, if one had thought to ask Obi-Wan what the defining moment of his life was, he would not have answered that it was the sound of gut wrenching weeping from a child whose tears fell as though his world was closing around him, strangling him, and the child couldn’t do a thing to stop it.  
  
_ _Yet, it probably should have been for that had been the moment that Obi-Wan began to live again._

* * *

  
Obi-Wan opened his eyes and blinked, pushing the covers back. Shaking off his weariness, he rose and did a few simple katas, feeling himself become centered and once more he found himself pushing the feeling of the loss of Mater Qui-Gon Jinn out of his thoughts. Like every other Jedi, they had felt the loss of the great Master. They had mourned but also rejoiced for he had gone the way of them all and had found his place within the flow of the Force.

Of course, Obi-Wan had felt that blow more keenly than the others on Bandomeer for there had been a time when they had been Master and Padawan. That changed on the mission to Melida/Daan. He had made a grievous mistake, hurting his Master and fellow Jedi deeply. Though he knew that Qui-Gon would’ve accepted him back after he had shown proper repentance for his mistake, he did not feel that it was right to rejoin the Jedi Order.

Instead, he chose to follow the path he’d originally been placed on before becoming Master Jinn’s Apprentice.

Obi-Wan left Coruscant and joined the Jedi Agricultural Corps. It was both an attempt to assuage his guilt over the wrongs he had done against his fellow Jedi. And a way to seek solace for trying to be what he obviously could not be, a true Jedi for he had neither the patience nor control over himself to do what was right.

But this morning, as he stretched, he felt something in the air that had him pausing in his exercises. Tilting his head, he listened intently. For all of this, it was not his hearing that became aware of the change. The air seemed extraordinarily charged.

Alive.

Awake with the Force - with a deep, soul crushing _pain_ in the Force.

So heavily did it hang in the air that Obi-Wan fell to his knees, arms wrapping about himself until he could regain his center. Rising to his feet, he grabbed his thick, threadbare robe, similar in color and feel to those at the Temple, and put it on, warding his body against the chill. He walked out into the mist filled morning, noting the way the sun glinted off of it like diamonds.

It was going to be a beautiful day. Inhaling the fresh, crisp air, he shook his head at his unusually poetic thoughts. Standing there, he just let himself enjoying the morning’s dewy newness - then heard a faint cry as the pain in the Force returned, stronger than before.

 _No,_ he thought with growing, dawning horror, almost deafened by the sound of the pure pain he heard in the cries. It touched his heart and softened it for he knew that keening sound well. He had made that same sound when he felt Qui-Gon’s last caressing touch upon his mind.

It was the sound of someone whose heart was dying. Someone who didn’t want it to stop or go away for that would mean that they felt they no longer had the right to exist.

Breaking into a run, he headed for the sound, noting the oddly beautiful ship that had landed in the field. Idly noting that it would be a day’s work, if not more, to remove it. Glancing inside, his heart stopped beating for a moment as his eyes landed on the Jedi child, curled up in the pilot’s seat. The child made no move, though he _must’ve_ been able to feel his arrival if not in the Force then in the audible sounds around him for he'd been far from silent as he'd forced open the door.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes against the pathetic sight of the boy before him. Heart clenched in his chest, he studied him as dispassionately as he was able to, though the cries of the child were echoed in his own pained soul. He could feel the pain as if it was his own for he knew that it was his own. The only difference was that he did not have the luxury to shed any tears.

A tiny body for all the strength he possessed, wrapped up in a thin robe of pale brown. Traces of blood colored what showed of the white undershirt and he wondered what could have happened for he could sense that no injury had been done to the boy himself.

The blond hair that had begun to darken into a golden brown, bore the signs of a familiar Padawan Learner’s cut, he noted absently before his gaze sharpened. With something akin to empathetic dismay, he saw that where the boy’s Padawan braid should have been, there was nothing but a few ragged strands of hair, revealing that the braid had been cruelly severed.

By the boy’s hands or another’s, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure.

He wasn’t sure it even mattered.

There was only one fact that remained clear to his mind. This was a child who had somehow found his way to their world, seeking something here he could get no where else. Yet, he could not have been sent away as unfit for continued training for he had obviously had a Master. If he had had one Master, surely this child could gain another one. The outpourings of the Force from him would allow for no other solution. The Jedi Council would not have sent him away, especially so young.

He couldn’t have been more than twelve years old.

Wrenching sobs shook the tiny body and Obi-Wan stood there, uncertain of what to do for him. The feel of the child’s Force held him captive, immobile. He had never been very good with children, had never known what to do with them for all his empathy training.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t remain here, listening to the sobs of a child. A child whose world had suddenly been ripped from his hands.

Reaching in, he grasped the sides of the ship’s doorway and pulled himself in, waiting for some kind of defense to kick in. When nothing happened, a sigh of relief escaped him and he relaxed, returning his attention to the boy. Slowly, with an aching kind of precision, he moved towards the child and rested a hand on his shoulder. The child looked up, beautifully haunted blue eyes drowning in tears as they searched his before launching himself into the arms with desperate strength.

Tears flowed even faster as they tumbled down to the ground.

Stunned by the desperate strength behind the embrace, Obi-Wan found himself wrapping the boy securely in his arms. The child was shaking freely now, as though with his touch, Obi-Wan had set him free to let go of the tight control he’d had over his emotions. He realized, with a sense of apprehension, that it was not just the tears that were causing the boy’s fierce shakes.

The child was chilled to the core.

Instantly, he tried to push him away momentarily to free his robe so that he could wrap it around him but the boy shrieked in terror and he gave up the effort.

Obviously, the boy had no intention of letting him go, no matter how frigidly cold he felt.

Having the sickening feeling that he had become the boy’s lifeline into sanity and life, Obi-Wan began to run his hand through the hair as tenderly as possible. Rocking him gently in his arms, he soothed him as best as he could with his soft voice, speaking in a singsong manner, much as he would a wild animal.

After sitting on the cold, unyielding ground for what seemed like hours, he felt the boy’s tears still and the sniffing begin. He silently groaned as he felt that nose rub against him but allowed it without complaint for there was nothing else to be done. _What were clothes when a child’s welfare was at stake anyway_? The crying jag and its after math finally over, Obi-Wan felt the body slump into his arms, a dead weight.

 _Oh, if only Master Jinn could see me now,_ he thought with a silent, sobbing laugh. _Wouldn’t he laugh, thinking that this was the funniest thing to happen to me since falling on my face in front of Master Yoda after tripping over Master Windu?_

As carefully as he dared, Obi-Wan pushed off the ground, keeping one arm securely around the child. He ironically thought that it wouldn’t have mattered if he hadn’t. Dead weight or not, the boy had a grip upon him much like a clinging vine. The boy would not be releasing him any time soon.

Taking care, he levered them both out of the vessel and onto the ground, making sure that each step was placed carefully onto the ground. The walk back towards the house was painfully slow but he felt no hurry or concern over it. All he could feel was a sense of imminent change in his life.

He wondered just what he’d just gotten himself into. Much like Master Jinn, he believed that things happened for a reason. This child’s arrival was no accident. It couldn’t be. But what did it mean to him and the life he had here? Did it mean anything to him?

Shaking off the questions about the future, he entered the house and called his neighbor, quickly explaining the situation.

Understanding the predicament Obi-Wan found himself in, the Twi’lek nodded, hiding a smile at the sight of the normally stern young man being used like a security blanket, and said he would take care of everything. He found it almost cutely endearing to see it. “ _Are you going to call the Jedi Council_?”

Shrugging as carefully as he could before shifting the child tenderly in his arms, he said. “I don’t know. I suppose I will have to. But…have you heard anyone say that the Council was going to be sending a child here?”

“ _Nothing. Not even a whisper of warning within the Force. What are you going to do with him?”_

“I don’t know what I can,” he sighed. “I’ll just wait for him to let me know.”

“ _Good luck_ ,” he wished the younger man before saying a good-bye.

Turning towards his room, he stared contemplatively at his bed before sitting down, knowing it would be pointless to try to put the child down. After a seconds reflection, he kicked back and leaned against the headboard, the boy tucked securely under his chin. The feeling of his breath tickled him slightly and he smiled, running his hand through the hair once more.

“What am I going to do with you, little one?” he whispered, keeping up the gentle caress. 

* * *


	2. In Which A Bond is Formed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get some insight into the boy's mind.

* * *

_  
Up, down._  
_Up, down._  
_Up, down_.

The gentle motion that rose and fell steadily rocked the child comfortingly even as he snuggled further into it, accepting the peace with a calmed mind. _A dream_ , he thought, _perhaps it was all just a dream_. This he thought for he could feel the familiar tingle of the Force emitting from the person who held him as securely as he’d been held in his mother’s arms.  
  
Opening his eyes, he glanced about, a sting of disappointment filling him as he studied the man he rested upon so easily. It faded away as he curiously studied him.

The man’s hair was neatly trimmed - neither to long nor to short, it seemed to be just right for his face. The unusual reddish gold color of it shimmered in the room's dim light. His young looking face was tanned and gentle, though there was a sternness to it he was used to seeing only on the faces of the Jedi Masters he had been surrounded by.

It wasn’t his Master.

No, not quite. Yet, there was a feel to this man that was remarkably similar. May be it was the slight laugh lines on his face. They weren’t as deep as the ones his Master had. But then, no one in the whole Galaxy seemed to have laugh lines that deep.

His Master radiated laughter, even in the midst of a stern lecture. Or a fight, though his Master seemed to prefer to avoid such things for all his immense skill. He could still see the way he stood, the sunset framing him as they observed the people around them.

Another image flashed before his eyes, the memory teasing his senses, taunting at the edge of his mind. A more frightening one replaced it, pushing its way past the calm he'd been feeling. An image of blood struck him, surrounded him though there hadn't been any to be seen. He could see it flowing freely from a deep wound in his mind's eye. Smell it on his hands as he ran away from the falling man.

Of the ghastly image that had turned to him quickly, was suddenly in front of him, snatching at him as his lips had curled up into a snarl, grabbing his… _No_ , he mentally shouted, _don’t think! Don’t think about that! It can’t hurt you if you don’t think about it._

Ignoring the tears that started to cloud his eyes, he ducked his head back down, hiding once more within the warm neck.

_Don’t think. Don’t remember. Don’t let him find me,_ he pleaded, hoping that the Force would be generous, would hear him as it never had before. His mind desperate to hold onto the peace, he concentrated on the steady motion beneath him fiercely.

_Up, down._  
_Up, down._  
_Up, down_.

His heartbeat slowed to beat in time with the motion. Calm once more, he opened his eyes again cautiously and glanced about, not moving. Not wanting to destroy the moment again. The boy couldn’t let anything destroy the moment, the peace, and the stillness.

He needed it to quiet his mind, his aching and bruised heart. Too much had happened to him, too much had been lost in a brief moment. He couldn't - he wouldn’t lose this too.

After a time, peace seeped back into his hungry body as the tranquility embraced him within its lovingly, protective arms. For the first time in what seemed like forever, there was no noise within him. No busy sounds that clamored for his immediate attention.

He could rest for he matched the stillness about him. The constant hum, the incessant hum that had dominated his life, was silenced. Yet, he did not fear or mourn the loss for he could still feel it, hovering beyond the edges of the peace that enclosed his mind.

"Are you hungry?" A soft voice broke into his thoughts.

He liked the sound of the voice. He remembered it from before. He’d liked it then too. It was soft with a lilting tilt to it that spoke of laughter. Of music and warm hugs. He liked the hugging, the holding arms from earlier. They made sense to him when little else did. But then there was a movement that he didn’t like. The warm hand that he hadn’t consciously recognized within his hair started to withdrawal.

The boy panicked.

Feeling that loss – so achingly similar to the one he’d just felt - and followed the hand, whining a little in protest. The hand stopped and returned to its former position, caressing him gently. Still not looking up at his benefactor, he settled back into the warmth.

The touch and the feelings behind it were to familiar for him to give up. He didn’t **want** to give them up. Not now that he’d found them again. Though the waves of feelings behind it were spicier with the slightest edge of irritation to it, as though the man didn’t know how to respond to this, he didn’t want to let go.

The boy supposed he should feel guilty for this. For putting this man into an awkward position, a position that he seemed ill equipped to handle. That he should try to…do something to ease those feelings of unease. That he should rebel at the way he could only helplessly cling to this man who seemed so familiar to him.

He just couldn’t bring himself to care as he snuggled further into the warmth, grasping onto the familiar brown robe. _No_ , he thought idly, tracing it with his calloused fingers. _Not quite the same_. It was brighter than the ones that colored his world at the Temple. It was softer, more threadbare, for all the care that had been lavished upon it over the years.

He liked the way it smelled and felt. Soft and clean, if a little patched up in places. The garment was well cared for, speaking well of the man who wore it. It made him feel safe here. It spoke of a home he had once had but lost. It spoke of his mom and her gentle affections. The way she would take care of him without fail, no matter how many times he messed things up.

A sigh rumbled through the man’s chest seconds before the breath tickled down from his hair and over his cheek.

Tears welled up as his head tilted to the side, the weight of the braid gone. _No_ , he thought fiercely. _Don’t think about that. The loss was necessary. Just feel the moment, live in it_.

"Unusual for a boy your age but, from your behavior, I take it that you aren’t hungry," he said, a slight laugh in his words. "I am though. Would you mind terribly if we changed location? I am unused to lying in bed all day for any reason. It seems to me to be a general waste of time spent elsewhere. If you do not wish to go with me, you are more than welcome to stay here."

He thought, _stay here? Alone_? Breathing faster as the now familiar red and black face flashed before his eyes and he shied away from it. Instantly, his grip tightened, protesting the offered release.

Another deep sigh came.

"I’ll take that as a no. Would you mind loosening your grip just a tad? I have come to be very fond of breathing and would hate for it to cease in such a useless manner." The underscore of humor lessened the sting of reproach in his words.

The boy gave it some thought, nodding thoughtfully. What he said made sense. He couldn’t help him if he couldn’t breath. Taking a deep breath, he slowly let his grip around the man relax.

Slightly.

"Thank you. You have a grip a mynoch would envy," he commented. Shifting the boy over in his arms, he pushed himself up, being careful not to jar his burden too much. Once standing, he reoriented the weight again before walking into the fresher. Standing there in the natural light of the room, he critically studied their appearance in the mirror.

His head shook, taking in the puffy eyes and the just woke up sleepy look on their faces. "We look absolutely disgraceful and uncivilized."

That caused the boy to pull away, looking at him in confusion before facing the mirror. Carefully avoiding the right side of his face, he studied them, resting his head against the shoulder. He didn’t know what the problem was.

He thought they looked fine.

When the boy remained silent, he spoke again. "I am going to put you down right here. Don’t get nervous," he quickly soothed, hearing the quick inhalation. "I just need to wash my face. Wouldn’t you like to do the same?" he asked, noting the wild desperation in the eyes that met his.

Once more, he was made aware of his own inadequacies in dealing with a child - especially this child.

The boy’s face scrunched up in thought. He seemed to be weighing all options as he stared at their reflections in the mirror. Finally, he let go and the man released him so that he was sitting on the countertop. Standing up, he noted that he had not been entirely released.

A part of his Jedi robe was clutched firmly in a white knuckled grip.

Though surprised by this, he said nothing. The child’s holding onto him was slowly becoming a normal, acceptable thing to him. Reaching over, he wet a cloth and handed it to the boy. Bending over then, he cupped his hands under the warm stream of water and threw it into his face. Rubbing briskly, he was pleased to feel some life return to him. Occasionally, he would glance at his silent companion.

He had not moved from his place. Nor had his eyes left him.

It was unnerving the way he just sat there, watching as the traces of their nap were washed away. The damp cloth held in his hands.

Forgotten.

As for the boy, he liked staring at this stranger. He liked the way he looked. He especially liked the way he didn’t scold him for not washing himself.

He just gave a sigh and took the cloth from him, gently wiping off his face. The cool touch felt nice against his skin. _For all his sighing, I hope that this is_ …the thought was cut off by a brisk knock. Jumping off the counter, he threw himself at his protector, shaking life a leaf in a breeze.  
  
_Found me_ , he thought, shivering as he clung on tenaciously. _He’s found me_.

Firm hands gripped his shoulders. Try though he did to hold on to him, he found himself being pushed firmly away. The man knelt down in front of him, a hand cupping his chin and lifting it to meet his gaze. The softness in them warmed him.

"It’s all right," he soothed, "I am expecting company. Come along, young one."

Rising slowly, he held out his hand and was gratified when it was accepted after an interminable debate. The two made their way out into the main room, the boy lagging behind. He dropped farther behind the closer they got to the door where a shadowy figure waited.

Finally, he stopped, eyes focused intently on the figure.

The knock sounded again. It went unheeded as the man approached the boy. Kneeling down once again, he held out his arms with a resigned sigh. The boy rushed into them, clinging to him. _Must hold on tighter_ , he thought. _This one’s elusive, wants to be free, I can’t allow that yet. I need this just now. Please, just let me have this for a little while before_ …  
  
_STOP THINKING_!  
  
Getting up again, he shifted the boy until his rested mostly on his side and walked over, complaining lightly as they went. "You know, it’s a good thing you’re so short and skinny. Otherwise we would be having a problem." Opening the door, he revealed the Twi’lek there, his hand raised to knock again. On his face was the closest thing to an impatient expression he’d ever seen on a Twi’lek. "Hello, So’la."

"About time, I was beginning to wonder what…" he complained, dropping it instantly at the sight of the young boy. "Who’s this?"

"So’la, this is the young Padawan I found." If he felt the grip tightening, he didn’t let it show. "Padawan, this is one of the Jedi who live here, So’la."

The familiar word caught his ear, bringing him some comfort. _Padawan_ , he thought, hearing the word with shock. _I was once somebody’s Padawan_. He glanced out into the bright light, and then ducked back into the curve of the warm neck.

"Padawan?" So’la softly questioned, his smile never wavering.

He shrugged. "What else do I call him? He hasn’t said a word since I found him. Have you gotten through to the Jedi Council?"

So’la saw the tension increase. It radiated off of the boy. _If the poor child got any tenser_ , he thought, _he would snap in half under the strain_. "Do you think it wise to speak so in front of him?" he softly asked.

"I am not going to treat him like a child," he firmly said, taking no offense. So’la had more experience with children. Yet, he did not think it best to listen to him in this instance. "I cannot for it would be to ignore whatever brought him here. Whatever happened to him has left him as anything but one. I will not keep him in the dark about the situation he now finds himself in. The call is not mine to make. While I may address him as Padawan, he is not mine."

"Obi-Wan," So’la started to say, worried about this decision to treat the young child as an adult – even if there was something almost eerily grown up about him.

The child was startled to hear the name. _Obi-Wan_? It was beyond his hopes to find him and so soon. His heart raced, nearly choking him in excitement - and dread.

"I could be, if you wanted me," he whispered, startling the both of them. Pulling back at the incessant tugging on his small ponytail, he looked up into incredulous eyes. "If you really are Obi-Wan Kenobi."

* * *


	3. In Which A Promise Is Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some answers are given. A few things are revealed. And somehow the boy and Obi-Wan make a connection.

* * *

  
Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, both in shock and wonder. He hadn’t expected the boy to speak at all after his silence. And that when he did speak to them, his words would tell them about the Council or where to find his Master, even a request to find him or her. He had not thought that it would be this shocking request.  
  
Exchanging a look with So’la, he pried as calmly as he could, though his heart was beating quickly. “How is it that you know my name, young one? Know me in such a way that you feel comfortable enough to ask this of me? Especially when you must know that I never finished my training. I am no Jedi Master. I am not even a Jedi Knight.”  
  
But the boy would say no more. He just buried his face again and no amount of tugging or cajoling would bring him out again.  
  
Looking helplessly at So’la, he shook his head. Feeling the tears wet his skin, he decided that it would be best to leave the subject alone for now. Hoping that his friend could see what he wasn’t saying, he turned the discussion back to the Council. “See if you can get in touch with the Jedi Council. Ask them to call me but don’t say why. I believe that this is something I should deal with this personally.”  
  
“What do you want done with the ship?” he asked, letting him know that he understood.  
  
“It’s not mine,” he replied, shrugging. “But you can put it in the hanger with the other vehicles. Why? Does it still work?”  
  
So’la smiled at the disbelief in his voice. “More or less,” he replied, turning when he heard someone call his name. “I’m coming! Whoever brought it in is one brilliant pilot,” he finished.  
  
“Thanks, So’la.”  
  
“Hey, why don’t you bring him to the picnic tomorrow? There’s sure to be plenty of kids his age. It might make him feel more at home,” he suggested.  
  
 _What if I don’t want him to feel at home?_ he thought, half-desperately. Even though he found himself identifying with the boy, he just couldn’t see that they would be good for each other when he had no true experience with children - and the young boy was clearly damaged in a way that he didn't think he was capable of healing or helping. “We’ll see,” he said, not committing himself to anything.  
  
The Twi’lek’s head shook. “In all the years you’ve been here, you have never once agreed to go. Why is that?”  
  
“Not enough alcohol,” he said, keeping his face totally blank.  
  
So’la gasped.  
  
“I need to be thoroughly deadened before I would even begin to enjoy such a function.”  
  
So’la laughed, shaking his head. “You are such an old man, Obi-Wan. Be careful or you’ll find that life has escaped you.” Waving, he went off down the road, whistling as he did so.  
  
Shutting the door, Obi-Wan caught the sound of a stomach rumbling. With a raised eyebrow, he looked down at the boy’s head, wishing he could see his eyes. “So, you are hungry.”  
  
The boy shrugged.  
  
“Do you have a name?” he asked as he walked into the kitchen. Though he did not want to do so, it being unsanitary and uncivilized, he put the boy down on the counter and opened the cupboard over his head. The boy rested against his chest, unwilling to relinquish contact with him.  
  
He nodded and mumbled something.  
  
“What was that? I didn’t quite catch what you said,” Obi-Wan said, pulling out a container of something.  
  
“Anakin,” he whispered, repeating his nane obligingly.  
  
“Anakin?” he repeated, nodding his head. It was not a name he knew but it was better than calling him the boy or Padawan or young one all the time. “Well, Anakin, as loathe as I am to make pancakes for lunch, I seem to be out of anything else easy to make. Would you like them plain or do you want some kind of fruit with them? Either way, you will be getting fruit. I will not have you filling up on just cooked batter.”  
  
Anakin mumbled, “In.”  
  
Nodding once more, Obi-Wan wondered if he was going nuts to count two words as a victory. “Sit up,” he gently ordered, feeling pleased – and guilty – when the boy did it. The look in his eyes was no less lost, no less desperate, but it was lessening somewhat. Somehow, finding him had helped relieve this boy of the terrible burden he carried upon his shoulders.  
  
Handing him a part of his robe, he moved to get the ingredients he needed. Grabbing some fresh fruit, he began to wash them. He was silent, unsure of where to begin speaking to Anakin. He needed to know more about him, more about the circumstances that had brought him to Bandomeer so unexpectedly. But how to open up that discussion when the boy wouldn’t even speak in anything more than a whisper? Did he even have the right when this child should, by rights, be taken care of by the Council?  
  
“I can do that.” Anakin whispered, hopping down and moving towards him, looking into the sink. He was standing on his tiptoes to do it but didn’t mind the discomfort. _If I help him out_ , he thought, _he won’t send me away. Obi-Wan will want to keep me_.  
  
Obi-Wan faced him, shocked by this voluntary move. He was even more shocked that Anakin had spoken voluntarily. Stepping back, he went to get a small step stool and put it on the ground, smiling at him encouragingly. “I would like that. Thank you, Anakin. Be careful, the water’s hot.”  
  
Hesitating only for a moment, he started to wash the fruit, wincing a little at the stinging feel of the water. He wouldn’t complain, though. If he did, Obi-Wan might send him away faster. Besides, the water and fruit felt real, felt good in his hands. It reminded him of something other than...earlier.  
  
Behind him, he could hear the sounds of Obi-Wan mixing up the batter. Of lighting the fire to warm the flat stone they would be cooking them on. Shaking out the excess water, he slowly turned and put it down beside the bowl. He went back and got the step stool, wondering where it belonged.  
  
Already, Obi-Wan was pulling out a cutting board and a knife, slicing the fruit quickly but carefully.  
  
Putting it down beside him, Anakin watched, admiring the confident way Obi-Wan held the knife. He wasn’t even watching the knife as he cut. Yet, he never missed and the fruit was sliced evenly.  
  
“Would you like to give it a try?” he asked, never stopping his smooth motions as he glanced down at him. _It probably isn’t a good idea_ , he reflected, _to give the unstable boy a knife_. _But what else am I supposed to do_? Anakin seemed comfortable doing chores, it might help him loosen up and begin to talk about what was troubling him.  
  
Anakin only nodded and looked up at him, expectantly. Obi-Wan handed him the knife and curled his fingers around it. “Hold it firmly but lightly. It isn’t like a lightsaber. A simple hold is all that’s needed,” he instructed. “Don’t chop the fruit, Anakin, a few slices is much better for this fruit.”

His face intent on the task, he followed the instructions easily. It was almost like the way his mother had taught him. The knife handle felt cool in his hand, comfortable. It was a blade much like ones he’d handled before. But the fruit kept slipping away from his grip no matter how hard he tried to control it.

“Put your thumb against the flat end of the fruit and rest your fingers on the cutting board,” he guided him, helping him move his fingers into position. He laughed a little, watching the clumsy way the boy’s fingers moved. Almost without thought, he smoothed back Anakin’s hair, patting his shoulder. “Awkward at first, I know. But it’ll get better with practice. Of course, if it doesn’t work for you, we’ll find some other way. There is not true or right way to do this.”

Concentrating on the work, Anakin nodded. It was easier when he followed the instructions, though he couldn’t quite manage the ease Obi-Wan had. “What kind of fruit is this?” he quietly asked, finished the last one.

Obi-Wan was startled, not having expected to have another question asked after his offer. Still, he was glad to hear him speak. “A rare fruit grown here,” he replied, resting his hand on the boy’s head. “The Shola call it a strawberry. We send them to the Jedi Temple. Have you never had one?”

Shaking his head, he was surprised when Obi-Wan gave him a slice. “Try one,” he advised. “It’s better to see what it tastes like before the flavor is altered by both the batter and the cooking process.”  
  
Still uncertain, he gingerly put it in his mouth after closing his eyes.

A gentle laugh rang out, “You know, it isn’t going to harm you. One would think it was a brussel sprout from your expression.”

Anakin ignored him. The spicy sweetness of the fruit teased his senses as he slowly chewed it. It tasted almost familiar, like he’d had it before. The juices were stronger than he’d expected for so small a fruit and they ran down his chin, just a little, leaving a sticky trail in their wake. He wiped it off, licking his finger.  
  
“Well?” Obi-Wan asked, a slight challenge in his voice.  
  
“I think I like it,” he slowly replied, opening his eyes to watch as he walked over to the warmed stone and knelt down.

“You can have the rest. I have used all that I am able to. Anymore would spoil the pancakes,” he offered with a smile as he glanced back at him. Realizing that Obi-Wan was being serious, he hungrily finished off the small pile of strawberries.

As Obi-Wan spooned the batter onto the hot plate, Anakin washed off the counter and started to put everything into the sink. Once he’d washed the cutting board, he left it in the sink to dry, figuring they’d wash them later. There would be more dishes to be done once they’d eaten. Joining Obi-Wan on the floor, he waited for more instructions, not knowing what to do now.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what to make of this boy, of this situation. It was unlike anything he'd ever expected to be called upon to go through. Flipping over the pancakes, he absently asked. “Would you bring me one of the plates from the cupboard by the refrigerator? Then set the table over there?”

Anakin stood, walked over to the indicated cupboard and opened it, trying to reach for the plates. Finding that he couldn’t even with the aid of the step stool, he stepped back. Not sure what to do, he shrugged and reached out with the Force, bringing the items they needed down to him.

“Thank you. But next time, use one of the chairs. Though we have the Force, we shouldn't use it so casually,” he said, accepting the plate. Putting it down beside the nearly empty bowl, he started to put the cooked pancakes on it. “Sit down, Anakin. There’s no need to hover over me. This is just about done.”

Sitting down beside him, Anakin watched him curiously. For all the years he’d been in the Temple, he had never seen anyone cook food before. His Master preferred to eat out or in the Temple’s dinning hall. On Tatooine, the meals he and his mom ate were mostly cold. With the heat of the planet being so strong, they hadn’t wanted to eat anything that would only add to the discomfort.

_Mom_ , he thought, cringing at the thought. He wondered if he would ever think of her with anything but regret.  
  
“What are you thinking about?” Obi-Wan asked, breaking into his thoughts. He hadn’t meant to pry but the boy’s stress level had risen. It worried him. A feeling he was becoming all too familiar with again.

Though grateful for the offered distraction, Anakin couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”  
  
“Because I would like to know more about my dinning companion,” he replied, checking the cakes.  
  
“Are you going to keep me?” he asked instead, intently staring at him.  
  
“Anakin,” he sighed but stopped, not knowing what to say, putting the last one on the plate. Rising after putting out the fire, he walked into the dinning area where the table was set. Putting the plate down, he poured out the chilled milk and sat down, looking back at him. “We should eat.”  
  
Anakin started forward but stopped. He just couldn’t do this. Couldn’t continue as though nothing had happened. That his life wasn’t hanging by a thread, a tenuous thread named Obi-Wan Kenobi. “No. I need to know. Are you going to keep me?”  
  
Closing his eyes momentarily, Obi-Wan leaned back. “Come here,” he softly said, looking at him. When he just stood there, staring at him uncertainly, he sternly said. “Anakin.”  
  
Reluctantly, he walked over, nervous. Standing in front of him, he waited, staring at his feet. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen but he waited as patiently as he could.  
  
“Look at me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan softly ordered.  
  
Ever so slowly, Anakin looked up, expecting anger. Rage. Something dark like that for that had always happened in the past when someone spoke to him in that tone of voice. But it was none of those things. The same gentleness from earlier met his eyes. It refused to let him feel alone or hurt, it welcomed him into his life and heart. The look of compassion was so gentle, so true, that it twisted inside him, slowly shattering his fear.  
  
“I can’t keep you, Anakin. You are a human being, not a pet.”  
  
“But he said you would take care of me!” he practically wailed, feeling the fear close in on him again.  
  
“Who did, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, his hand moving to rest on the boy’s shoulder. “Who?”  
  
“Master Jinn,” he whispered, unable to look into those eyes any longer.  
  
Obi-Wan stared at the boy, absolutely floored by his words. “Qui-Gon?” he repeated, voice hushed with shock.  
  
“Why don’t you want me? I’ll be good, I promise. I won't get in your way. I'll do whatever you want, stay wherever you want me to. I won't cause any trouble or anything. Just don’t send me away from here,” he pleaded, throwing himself at him, unable to stop his shaking or his words. “Please, Master Obi-Wan, sir. Don’t send me away!”  
  
Mind reeling even as he enfolded the boy in his arms protectively, he didn’t know how to respond to this impassioned plea. So, he focused on an inconsequential, “Anakin, I am not a Jedi Master or Knight. To give me a rank I have not earned is not right.”  
  
“I DON’T CARE!” he yelled, pulling back, staring at him. Anakin couldn't help but feel as though he was breaking, shattering under this relentless hold out on what he needed. “Master Jinn said you would help me!”

“Help you, yes. Of course, I'll help you. Never doubt that. But I cannot train you,” he argued, adding quietly for he remembered the words spoken earlier. “You cannot be my Padawan.” _Qui-Gon, what have you gone and done now? And why am I still cleaning up after you_?  
  
Anakin opened his mouth; then closed it with a snap. From somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear his Master’s voice speaking to him, _patience, Padawan. He’ll come around_.

“Yes, sir,” he said, shuffling about.  
  
“Sit down and eat,” he said, wondering about the sudden change in him. “Then we’ll see about getting you some clean clothes.”  
  
“Yes, sir," he said again.

“Call me Obi-Wan for there is very little formality on Bandomeer,” he invited. After they had eaten, he told him about some of the plans he’d been making while they’d been so silent. “We’ll go over to the Public Hall once you’ve changed and call the Jedi Council, let them know you’re safe.”

“No,” Anakin suddenly said, looking up from his drink. “Don’t call them.” As long as he was here, he knew he was safe. Qui-Gon had said as much. But he needed to have Obi-Wan agree to care for him. It was the only way he’d be truly safe. That was the way it worked for they were Jedi. _Why didn’t he understand? Did he not remember what it was like to be a Padawan?_

“Why not?” Obi-Wan asked, staring at him, shocked. A thought came to his mind and he stared at him, asking intently, “Anakin, I asked you a question. Why shouldn't I call the Jedi Council and let them know what’s going on? Did you run away from them?”  
  
When there was no answer, only the sight of Anakin growing tenser, he leaned forward, another thought coming to him. “Are you in some kind of trouble, Anakin? Are they? What is going on?”

“He’ll find me if you call them,” he finally whispered.

“Who? Who will?”

Anakin couldn't take it any longer and bolted from the chair and out the door, veering away from the feel of the settled town. He ran blindly through the field, heart beating rapidly in his chest. His lungs felt ready to burst as he pushed on, not caring where he went. It was a silent sound he heard, calling to him to come out of hiding. To reveal where he was - and he couldn't do that. He knew that he could not. Behind him, he could clearly hear Obi-Wan calling to him but he couldn’t stop.

Wouldn’t stop.

The danger was too real for him. And he had no protection from it.

A pair of arms grabbed him and he shrieked, fighting against their hold. “Anakin! It’s me!” Obi-Wan said, voice gentle for all the authority in it. The hold on him tightened. The boy collapsed against his chest, heaving great sobs of relief and terror. Rocking him for a while, he pleaded with the boy to let him in. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what is wrong. Trust me. Tell me, what happened?”  
  
Curling into him, Anakin forced himself to look up at him. It was written in those gentle eyes. It was time for him to speak. Yet, he couldn’t do it. Not yet. There was something he needed first. “Promise me that you won’t let me go back to them.”  
  
“Anakin,” he started.  
  
“Promise me that you won't make me go back,” he said, ignoring him. “I can’t go back.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Promise me!” he demanded, holding his eyes.   
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"Please, promise!" he insisted.  
  
“I promise,” Obi-Wan finally said, a note of sad resignation in his voice.  
  
Anakin nodded, satisfied. Yet he looked away, unable to bear the weight in that gaze.  
  
  



	4. In Which An Explanation Is Given...Kinda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin finally explains things. Sorta. I have a terrible fondness for Mace-and it shows terribly in this story. I think it was the war that brought out a lot of his distrust towards Anakin. I don't think he felt that way about the young boy. Really, I don't.

* * *

  
_If you had asked Anakin Skywalker what the defining moment in his life had been, you would’ve thought that he might have been inclined to say something about meeting Padmé, the angel of his dreams. Or winning the Boonta Eve race, thus earning his freedom from slavery and leaving on a ship to a place he had only ever heard of as a kind of legend. Coruscant, home of the Jedi Knights – a rank he would one day attain._  
  
 _It would not have been the moment he looked into a pair of unusual green-blue-gray eyes that never seemed to be one color for any length of time - and found a companion in grief, an understanding friend, and a brother – for he could not conceive of such a thing occurring_.   
  
************   
  
Whistling a happy tune, the young Padawan walked slightly behind his Master Qui-Gon Jinn as they approached the chambers of the High Jedi Council. It had taken him a while to get used to doing such a thing but now it was completely natural and comfortable to him.   
  
This was by far from his meeting with them but this was the first time he was certain that it had nothing to do with anything he had done. He had been very good lately. Standing still behind Master Jinn took a great deal of his concentration but he did it, knowing that this was just another thing expected of him as a Padawan.   
  
_Doesn’t mean I have to like it_ , he thought. Of course, he wasn’t so occupied by these thoughts that he almost missed the fact that they were being sent out on a mission. Shaking his head, he couldn’t help the thought that came to his awed mind that this was his first mission. His mouth dropped open slightly. Though he quickly snapped it shut, almost biting his tongue in the process, he knew it had been seen.   
  
Master Windu’s eyes narrowed momentarily, a hint of humor colored them. For one moment, Anakin imagined that the Master was remembering the first time he had been given a mission with his Master. He liked that thought. It made Master Mace Windu seem more friendly than he generally did.   
  
Of all the Masters, the uncompromising Master Windu was the one Anakin found himself constantly baffled by. Followed closely, of course, by the tricky Master Yoda. But thinking about Yoda always made his head ache. He much preferred to spend his time trying to figure out the enigma that was Mace Windu.   
  
At turns both stern and full laughter, he puzzled the young boy. When he had first met him, he had written him off as hardhearted, cold, and cruel. A man to whom compassion was only a word, not a way of being.   
  
Except, Master Jinn liked him, he counted him among his dearest friends. He valued his counsel, even if he did not always follow it for they were different creatures when it came to certain beliefs. His Master didn’t judge people lightly, he saw truly into their hearts.   
  
So, he had taken to quietly observing the careful way the Jedi Master did his work. Watching him, he found some things that puzzled him. That wasn’t saying much, most of the Jedi puzzled him. Even his own Master did at times. But Master Windu was especially puzzling.   
  
For one thing, Master Windu always seemed to be calm, yet something beat beneath the surface of that calmness that spoke of deep perception of the nature of the beings about him. He was rarely wrong about what he felt coming from them. He never let his own feelings about a particular person influence his own behavior towards them.   
  
Anakin especially watched the way he acted around the Younglings who came up to him. Oftentimes, they were crying or scared because they were lost. In his own personal opinion, it was his behavior with them that would reveal his true character.   
  
A sharp ache twisted his heart when he heard that deep voice that could cut through durasteel speak to them with such low, soothing tones. The deep love and affection he felt for these small children, it was all displayed there in front of his affection starved eyes. The gentle way he took their hands and led them off to where they were supposed to be, hurt like a physical blow.   
  
It made him wish that he’d been treated that way when he’d first come to Coruscant. Made him wish that he hadn’t been dismissed from their attention so easily, so lightly.   
  
Then there was his own private study that he did just for his own sake. Whenever he could get away with it, he would watch him practice his katas. He especially enjoyed it when he brought out his unusual lightsaber and worked with it. He vowed that he would one day learn the Vaapad form.   
  
One day he would win Master Windu’s approval.   
  
On that day, he would ask him to teach him to use Vaapad. In his eyes, it was far superior to any of the other styles and forms he’d seen. Not to mention the fact that it appealed to his rougher nature, the leashed menace he clearly saw in it.   
  
It was an example of what his mother would call tamed savagery. A sword form that allowed for no other victor except for him. A style of fighting that promised invincibility.   
  
Anakin liked that idea.   
  
For all the safety within the Temple’s walls, he could feel the specter of his past floating about him. Could almost feel the hands of the past reaching out to grab him and suck him back down into their depths. Waited for the voice of someone to say that a terrible mistake had been made, that he had to go back for he had been unfairly won.   
  
The idea that no one would be able to touch him again appealed to him.   
  
He felt ashamed that he desperately craved that reassurance constantly. Unlike those around him, he knew what lay beyond the Temple’s walls. His being here should have been enough for him. Yet, he could not help but want more than what he was granted. It made him feel simultaneously ashamed and angered.   
  
Glancing up, feeling his Master’s eyes upon him, he smiled reassuringly as he saw him looking at him. Anakin could tell that he was worried about him, sensing something of what he was thinking. It filled him with a warmth he usually associated with his mother.   
  
But it was different than what he felt for her. As much as he cared about Master Jinn, he couldn’t seem to shake the clinging feelings that kept him trapped in his past. He tried to listen to his lessons about letting go, tried to apply them in his life, finding it incredibly difficult to do so.   
  
The past was a part of who he was.   
  
How was he to be himself if he forgot who he was? How would he live without the only thing that was truly his own, his emotions? How could anyone survive if they denied half their soul? Master Jinn had tried to reassure him that wasn’t what he meant when he explained the Jedi Code.   
  
But he could not see that it was any different than what he was thinking. To let go of your feelings, you had to let go of a piece of yourself. An important piece. He had been a slave and knew that the one thing they couldn’t control was how you felt, try though they might. They could break you but that was not controlling your emotions.   
  
That was about dominating you. Destroying who and what you were in an attempt to recreate you as something else.   
  
He supposed understanding that the Jedi Code was not that way would come in time. Truthfully, he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. There was something scary about blindly accepting such a code that dictated every part of the Jedi life the way it did. That drew such hard lines between ideas, denying one while accepting another.   
  
The unruffled look never left his Master’s serene face. Yet within the depths of his eyes, he caught the lightening of the deep blue. ‘ _Focus on the present, Padawan. Your past has no place within these walls_ ,’ he silently counseled.   
  
‘ _Of course, Master_ ,’ he replied. Straightening his shoulders, he tried to keep his attention focused on the here and now. Listening to the slightly lilting voice of his Master as he asked for further details, the boy couldn’t help wondering what awaited them.   
  
************  
  
Knowing sleep to be pointless, he rose from the bed and stared out into deep space. The night was one of those restless nights that Anakin had experienced millions of times before. Something evil touched his mind, turning it from joyful thoughts of his first mission towards a phantom dread.   
  
He did not want to go anymore.   
  
Wrapping his arms about himself, he let his head fall down to rest against the cool metal of the ship. While it eased the hot ache that had been consuming him, it did little to ease the tension inside. How could he ever bring himself to tell his Master that he didn’t want to do this? That they should turn around and go back when he couldn’t even name what it was that troubled him so?   
  
“Padawan,” a sleep filled voice softly carried into his ears and he pushed away from the wall, turning around guiltily to see Qui-Gon standing in the shadows. His arms were crossed over his chest, a faintly disappointed air hung about him, mingled with familiar love. “Why are you not sleeping? We have much to accomplish tomorrow.”   
  
Once again, he was reminded of his mother and he had to struggle to keep the thoughts of her at bay. For all of his sympathy towards their bond, his Master did not want him to dwell upon her. Did not want him to allow her to cloud his thoughts. “I know, Master. I was awakened and could not get back to sleep,” he replied, avoiding his piercing gaze.   
  
Concerned, Qui-Gon walked into the room, kneeling down in front of him. Resting a hand on his forehead, he could feel the slightly feverish feel that clung to it. This, he knew, could’ve been the medication they had both been taking to prevent the fever that ran wild on Ida. Still...“Have you been taking your medicine?”   
  
“Yes,” he nodded to emphasize his words. “Every single day. I haven’t forgotten, I saw what not taking it did to Padawan Aria.”   
  
“Is it dreams?” he then asked, a firmness in the gentle question. When he had first found out that Anakin had true dreams, he had gone to Master Yoda, requesting special training for him. Though not consistent as other seers, they were powerful and when they happened successively, they always came about through some act of theirs – whether for good or ill.   
  
His dreams were more self-fulfilling prophecies than prophetic visions.   
  
Biting his lip, he glanced down before looking up into his eyes. “Not…exactly.”   
  
“Tell me,” he said.   
  
“I don’t think we should go,” he blurted out. “There’s something that’s wrong with this whole mission.”   
  
“Don’t focus on your anxieties,” he cautioned. “Your focus determines your reality and you have an unusually high level of focus for one your age. What you fear you **will** bring about if you cannot learn to let it go.”   
  
“Master, it isn’t my anxiety talking,” he stumbled a bit over the word but pressed on. “I know that something will go wrong. Why won’t you listen to me?”   
  
“Anakin,” Qui-Gon sighed, not knowing what to say. His heart told him one thing. His mind another. And the Force was strangely silent, as though telling him that this was one time he must chose for himself. It was in his hands. “You know that I believe that to do one’s duty is not always the right thing.”   
  
“Yes,” he said, scuffing his feet against the floor.   
  
“Yet in this, we must. Listen to me,” he sternly said. Once Anakin looked up at him, “If something does go wrong then you must do something for me. This is very important. You must seek Obi-Wan Kenobi among those in the Jedi Agricorp.”   
  
“Obi-Wan Kenobi?” His eyes clouded in thought, he knew that name. “Wasn’t he the Padawan who broke from the Order and participated in…”   
  
“Yes,” he interrupted firmly. “He is a good man, if a trifle headstrong. You must seek him out for he will help you. Promise me that you will do this for me, Anakin.”   
  
“But,” he started, frightened by the thought of going to a stranger.   
  
“Promise me,” he repeated firmly.   
  
“I promise.” There was a finality in the way that he made this vow that caused the young boy to shiver. He didn’t like the sound of the words nor what they implied.   
  
************  
  
“What happened when you went to this planet?” Obi-Wan asked, stroking Anakin soothingly. They had moved under a shady and tree and sat. The boy curled up into his lap, resting his head against his beating heart.   
  
Shivering, Anakin drew closer, breathing in Obi-Wan’s comforting scent. “Revolution.” The one word fell, dropping heavily between them. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to go on, to remember the events on the planet. Obi-Wan had promised. He was safe here. “I was separated from Master Jinn in the rushing crowds though I tried to hold onto him, I really did.”   
  
“I’m sure you did, Anakin,” he soothed him. “It is always a tricky thing to hold onto someone in the midst of chaos. I’ve been lost a few times myself.”   
  
“Really?” he asked, glancing up at him.   
  
“Really,” Obi-Wan smiled, then his face sobered up. “What happened then?”   
  
“I searched for Master Jinn,” he stammered, looking down and twisting the Jedi robe in his hands. “When I found him he was fighting this horrible creature. I had never seen such a being, never felt such a presence of hatred and fury before. This thing had it in abundance, it screamed off of him. I didn’t like it. It scared me so that I couldn’t move even when he was yelling at me to get into the ship and start it. I…I could only stand there and watch them fight. Master Jinn turned his attention away for a second after kicking the warrior away and compelled me to move. He…he…”   
  
An image flashed in Anakin’s mind and he couldn’t stop from projecting it to Obi-Wan.   
  
“A Sith,” he flatly declared, recognizing the tattoos on the face. The demonic eyes that stared into his own momentarily and the feel of the sheer hate danced along his skin. Revulsion filled him. And angry disbelief that the Sith were back and none of them-not one of them within the Jedi Order-had felt their return.   
  
“A what?” Anakin asked, knowing that he should know the term but he couldn’t place it.   
  
“That creature is known as a Sith. Force sensitive warriors with whom the Jedi fought a war with a thousand years ago. We had thought them dead.” Bringing Anakin closer, he leaned back against the tree and watched the stars come out through the green canopy. The haze formed by the leaves and the light cast the right amount of surrealism that Obi-Wan couldn’t help but shiver. “He killed Qui-Gon.”   
  
Anakin nodded miserably.   
  
“And you blame yourself.” It wasn’t a question. “It wasn’t your fault.”   
  
“Yes, it is. If I hadn’t stood there, Qui-Gon would’ve been able to protect himself.”   
  
“You don’t know that, Anakin. The future is ever in motion. Sooner or later, the Sith would’ve overcome him,” he sighed. “They dedicate their lives to the total perfection of their fighting, to the Dark Side of the Force and all its deceptive ways. Qui-Gon wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. He knew what he was doing.”   
  
“But if I had been more assertive. If I could've just convinced him that we shouldn't go,” he started to argue.   
  
“Qui-Gon would’ve gone anyway," Obi-Wan gently overrode his argument. "That is the way he was. If there was one thing Qui-Gon was always sure about, it was what he felt he was supposed to do. Believe me, Anakin, though I was not with him for very long, I know what he was like. I loved him as a father and a friend, but he could be the most stubborn of men. He was very set and very determined to do what he thought was right. What happened to him is the fault of the Sith, not you.”   
  


* * *


	5. In Which The Bond Deepens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much, just major bonding between Obi-Wan and Anakin. In short, it is a shmoopy scene.

* * *

Anakin knew that Obi-Wan was right. In his mind he knew that what he said was so. That what happened wasn’t really his fault, they had not been expecting such a skilled and powerful warrior to on the planet, almost waiting for them... _for him_. He shivered, drawing further into Obi-Wan's embrace, still hearing that low and sinister voice as a hand griped him. And so, his heart wouldn’t let the guilt go. The thought that if he’d been better, been faster, then Qui-Gon’s death would not have happened would not be silenced. These thoughts circled endlessly and would not leave his mind.  
  
The sight of that warrior…that Sith would not leave his mind, the boy just couldn’t make himself forget it. Forget the idea that he was at fault in this. He knew that the Sith warrior had come after him. “Please, don’t make me think about this anymore,” he begged miserably, not expecting anything more than another interrogation. “I just can’t do this right now.”  
  
It had been all anyone had doing to him since **it** had happened. They wouldn’t let it go. They wouldn’t give him the chance to adapt to what had happened to him. Why couldn’t they understand that he just needed time? Time to come to an understanding of it on his own?  
  
“All right, Anakin. You aren’t alone in this anymore. I may not understand all that you’ve gone through, but I will be here with you,” he soothed. “Just relax and let it go. Breath with me, I’ll help you let go of it.”  
  
“Everyone says that but no one will tell me why. Why do we have to let go? What is so wrong with having emotions? With holding onto them?” he asked, even as he followed the instructions.  
  
Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing Anakin’s back absently. Briefly, he looked down to meet his eyes before turning away, unable to bear the weight in those only all too adult eyes. Floundering for words to speak, he finally decided to answer simply while trying not to mislead him. He could tell that with Anakin, there was no such thing as half an answer.  
  
This both freed – and trapped him in the answer he could give him. “There is nothing wrong with having emotions, Anakin. As a Jedi, you are often encouraged to search your feelings, to listen to them. The trouble comes when you allow them to fully guide you, to dominate every decision you make. Letting go doesn’t mean to give them up. It means, little one, that you not let them lead you completely. Listen to them, yes. We should always listen to them. That is what some people call intuition. But we must learn to balance that, we must temper our actions with logic, with rational thinking.”  
  
“But that’s just to hard.”  
  
“Ah, but nothing worth doing is every easy.”  
  
“What?” he asked, confused.  
  
Tapping his cheek gently, Obi-Wan shook his head. “Think about it.”  
  
Pouting a little, Anakin leaned back against him and stared at the sky. “Master Jinn always made me think about things. He would never just tell me what I needed to know. Why are you doing that?”  
  
“Because knowledge handed to one is rarely appreciated,” he explained with a fond smile, remembering his own frustrations with the Jedi Masters who had often forced them to think, to come up with the answers they sought after themselves. “It is only when one learns the answer for themselves that it is fully understood. For another reason, my experiences are not your own. How I see something will be different because of the things I’ve done. What I have learned through my experiences.”  
  
“Like leaving the Jedi Order?” he asked, curiously. This was something that always confused him for he had heard many things about Obi-Wan and his skills, his dedication. Master Yoda often held him up to the other younglings and Padawans as an example of excellence, even though he had not been in the Order for many years. That he had, in fact, left the Order under less than honorable circumstances. He’d been slightly envious of this man for he had been Master Jinn’s student. He knew how important the Jedi Order had been to Obi-Wan. How could anyone turn away from that?  
  
“Yes, Anakin, like leaving the Jedi Order,” he sighed again. This was not a discussion he wished to be having right now, yet he could see no reasonable way to get out of it. And he wanted the boy to feel comfortable with him. To open up and share with him the burdens that weighed him down, for he could see that he had many for one so young.  
  
Anakin had every right to ask him these questions. It slowly started to dawn on Obi-Wan that he was already acting the part of a teacher. Of a Jedi Master to the young boy who hungered for knowledge and understanding. Keep this up, Obi-Wan, and you will never convince him that you can’t be his Master, he thought deprecatingly. You’re already playing the part for him. “It was one of the hardest, most painful decisions I have ever made.”  
  
“Then why did you do it?”  
  
“Remember what I said about listening to your feelings?” When he slowly nodded, Obi-Wan continued, “It felt like the right thing to do. Sometimes doing the right thing isn’t easy. Sometimes doing what feels right is the hardest thing you will ever do. It can also be the most painful and the scariest thing you will ever do.” Shaking his head, he pushed off the memories with some effort. “Come along, Anakin. It’s time for us to get ready for bed.”  
  
Though he felt safer with Obi-Wan’s promise warming him, Anakin trembled just a bit. “Can I stay with you?” he asked hopefully.  
  
“Aren’t you a bit too old for that?” he asked. He could’ve cursed when he felt the way Anakin slumped against him. “I suppose it would be all right. But this is just for tonight, all right? There is no reason to make this a habit,” he relented, knowing that he shouldn’t. That he should not be allowing this kind of privilege at all.  
  
Anakin nodded, relieved. Both rose to their feet and made their way towards Obi-Wan’s home. Once inside, he went into the room near the front of the house. It was full of stuff he’d collected over the years. Following him, Anakin waited inside the doorway as boxes were moved aside.  
  
“I apologize for the mess. I’m usually more organized than this,” he said, voice slightly muffled as he bent down to read the sides of the boxes. Selecting two of them, he put them down and sat on the ground.  
  
“I thought the Jedi didn’t have any possessions.”  
  
“We don’t. But that doesn’t mean that we don’t acquire a lot of things over the years. This is just excess stuff that I haven’t ever gotten rid of for there was no need, no time for it. There are also a few things from those that live here, we’re getting ready to send it back to the Temple for reuse. Since I live,” he corrected himself automatically, looking over at him to see his reaction. The slight smile on his face relieved Obi-Wan that they were back on track, “lived alone, I offered this room as storage until the Great Hall was open once more.”  
  
Opening one of them, he pulled some clothes out. “These used to be mine,” he explained, rising and walking over to where he waited. Holding them up and measuring them against Anakin, he nodded. “They’ll be a little big on you but that’s nothing to worry over. A few alterations will fix that. And you look like you’re due to have a growth spurt anytime now.”  
  
“Master Jinn said the same thing,” Anakin said.  
  
“Did he?” he absently asked. Handing the clothes over, he went back to the open box and pulled out a pair of boots, putting them aside. “These might be a bad fit. You are smaller than I was at your age. I’ll see if there are any others in the boxes tomorrow. Right now, you should be fine with what you have.”  
  
“If it would help, I have some of my things in my ship,” he offered hopefully. “We could get them tomorrow.”  
  
“That’s an excellent idea, Anakin. We shall go over…your ship?” he asked, looking at him in shock as the implications of the words sunk in. This boy piloted that ship? He was the one who brought it down safely? What kind of child was he? Of course, he felt a little silly saying it, he should have known that the boy had flown the ship. There was no one else there, anywhere, there had just been the boy's life signature  
  
"Yeah,” he shrugged, abashed. It was not a feeling he was comfortable with but in the face of Obi-Wan’s look, he couldn’t help but feel it. “I built it because Master Windu didn’t like all the droids I had built.”  
  
“You built it,” he stated, shocked.  
  
“Is that bad?” he anxiously asked, worried that he’d done something wrong. Worried that he would be sent away, promise or no promise. “I mean, I know that some of the Jedi don’t approve of it. But I don’t understand what’s so bad about it. It doesn’t hurt anyone.”  
  
“Anakin, building droids and ships is not exactly something a Jedi is known for. We are more often known for keeping the peace and more creative arts, though I suppose there is some creativity to be found in the building of droids. Why would you do such a thing?” he asked, sitting on his heels and gesturing for him to come closer.  
  
“It helps," he softly admitted, slowly coming nearer.   
  
“Helps?” he gently asked. “Helps with what, little one?”  
  
Anakin sat down, leaning against him, the clothes he had been given clutched near his chest, as though he feared they would be snatched away. “My loneliness.”  
  
Obi-Wan automatically put his arm around him, this action becoming more familiar to him and he pulled him closer. His heart hurt at the words, the very pain it brought up for him. He had often been the odd child of the Temple. It had been years before he had found any friends – and they had only originally bonded against a common enemy in Bruck. He wondered what happened to him, if he had actually became a Jedi. “Loneliness? Don’t you have any friends?”  
  
“No,” he whispered, ashamed, hiding his teary face in the warmth of Obi-Wan’s chest. “The others don’t like me that much. I…I came to the training late in life.” As much as it pained him to keep a secret from Obi-Wan, Anakin didn’t want to say anything about the prophecy that had allowed him to stay. About the fact that he might be this Chosen One everyone made a fuss about.  
  
For all the comfort Master Jinn had given him, it had only ever caused him pain with those his age. With those of any age for they all seemed to judge him by some standard he couldn’t hope to reach. In the back of his mind another thought teased him, that Obi-Wan would send him back because of his status as the possible _Chosen One_.   
  
That he would fear him for the title. That he, like everyone else, would think that he needed to be kept on some kind of pedestal. All he wanted was to be normal, was to be accepted. It was not something he wanted to happen. He couldn’t lose his only remaining connection to Master Jinn, to safety.  
  
“How late?”  
  
“I was nine,” he admitted after a while, leaving out the part that he had turned ten just before he'd arrived on Coruscant. It was important to the conversation.  
  
“Nine?” Obi-Wan gasped, shocked by this admission. He did not push him away though, remembering another Force user who had been accepted into the Order later in life, and knew the power of acceptance - and rejection. He continued to rub his back soothingly for a moment before letting go and speaking once more as he searched through another box. “Why did they allow you to be taken in? The cut off age for humans is two, three at the most.”  
  
“Master Jinn said that he would train me, with or without the Council’s approval. He would do it though he would rather have their help. I am unusually strong in the Force,” he admitted, shyly, yet proudly. He knew that he shouldn’t but he couldn’t help bragging about his own abilities.  
  
“You are at that,” he softly agreed, sensing that there was something more to it than what Anakin was telling him. But what could he say without further insight into the situation back at the Temple? He knew nothing of what was going on in Coruscant. In the years that he’d been living here, the Jedi Council may have altered their strict ways. They may have unbent their stringent requirements over the years. It was not entirely unheard of, though he highly doubted it. “Still, late to the training or not, the Younglings and other Padawans should not have held it against you. It was not your fault that you came so late. How did you come to be at the Temple?”  
  
“Master Jinn found me on Tatooine. He had been sent on a mission to help the Queen of Naboo and they had some trouble with their ship. They landed and came to the town I lived in. I worked for a junk dealer named Watto. I was a slave,” he admitted, stopping, awaiting his reaction fearfully.  
  
“And?” Obi-Wan encouraged, showing no other reaction to his revelation.  
  
“Master Jinn was able to free me because I entered a race under his backing. Once I had been freed, I went with him and the people of Naboo to Coruscant to see the Jedi Council. While they debated about letting me in, I was able to stay with Master Jinn.”  
  
“I heard about what happened on Naboo,” Obi-Wan nodded, taking up some of the slack of the story. “The Trade Federation tried to force her to sign a treaty to make their invasion legal. She fled to Coruscant but returned and took a strong and most astonishing stand against them. I was not aware that Master Jinn had gone back after she had called for a vote of no confidence against Chancellor Valorum though.”  
  
“He didn’t because of me. The Jedi Council, though uncertain that I should be trained, thought it best that we stay on Coruscant so that I could be observed better. Master Yoda advised against training me because I knew my mother. I feared that I would never see her again,” he admitted. “I miss her.”  
  
“I’m beginning to understand why you feel lonely and need to keep your mind occupied. I felt much the same way when I was cut off from Master Jinn. The bond between a Master and a Padawan is very deep, like the bond between parent and child. But I am sure you already know that,” Obi-Wan said with a sad smile. “Would you like to call her?”  
  
“Can I?” he asked, eyes flashing with joy and hope.  
  
“I don’t see why not.”  
  
“What about the Jedi Council?” he asked, slightly deflating as he recalled their strictures. Even Master Jinn had not dared go against them on this, though he had not wanted Anakin to be distracted by her anyway.  
  
“Anakin, as long as you are on Bandomeer, you will find that the Jedi Council has very little to do with the governing of our daily lives. We live on the fringes of Jedi society,” he informed him, though not unkindly. “They have some jurisdiction over our main affairs and can dictate certain parts of our lives. That is their right for they are our leader. But, for the most part, we are left alone. Many Jedi here are married, have families, and keep in touch with their birth families. If you wish to speak to your mother or write to her, go ahead. I will do my best to ensure that she receives your communications – and that you receive anything she may wish to send to you.”  
  
“Thank you, Obi-Wan, sir!” He leapt up and hugged him as tightly as he could.  
  
“You’re welcome,” he said, wrapping his own arms ineptly around him. Luckily for him, Anakin didn’t care about the awkwardness of the man he was embracing. He just hugged him closer, relishing the warmth of a hug that didn’t require him to first go nuts or be slightly comatose to get. As for Obi-Wan, he was beginning to think that he could get used to this hugging thing.  
  
And he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

* * *


	6. In Which Things Get Weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very little Obi-Wan and Anakin in this chapter-and the next one, for which I apologize for. But we have to find out what's going on with the Jedi Council back in Coruscant because they do have some say in what is happening with Anakin. Not to mention, there are a few other things going on that need to be addressed.

* * *

  
After a moment, he cleared his throat and gently pushed him away. “Enough talking about this for now, let’s get you changed before having a light dinner before going to bed. Honestly, I have not had so little to eat ever since leaving the Jedi Order.”   
  
“I’m sorry,” Anakin apologized, instantly ashamed of the trouble his presence had caused. His eyes shied away from his to stare at the ground. “I don’t mean to be a bother, sir.” And he honestly didn’t. More than anything, all he wanted was to stay here, with Obi-Wan – and not just because of his promise to Qui-Gon. He wanted to be here because he wanted to be with Obi-Wan. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he **belonged** somewhere.   
  
The Force was singing that this was right for him.   
  
“Don’t worry about it – and it's just Obi-Wan, remember?” He waved off his words and stood up, gently squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “None of this is your fault, Anakin. Go into the fresher and get changed while I get something warmed up, take a shower if you want to. I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with what little I have until I can get to the market. I was not expecting any company as today is – or was – the day I usually shop.”   
  
Anakin slowly walked out of the room with him, feeling the hand on his shoulder reassuring him of its reality and safety. Once they entered the hallway, Obi-Wan turned to the right and headed for the kitchen. The young boy made his way slowly towards the bedroom, turning around occasionally to make sure that Obi-Wan was still within his sight.   
  
Once he couldn’t see him anymore, he listened for his presence in the Force and held that image close to his heart.   
  
Quickly, he changed out of the dirty clothes he’d been wearing since he’d lost his Master and threw them aside, unable to look at them any longer. Rolling up the sleeves and the pant cuffs, he made his way back into the kitchen to see that Obi-Wan was just finishing up. He moved to his side and reached out a hand, grabbing hold of the robe, needing that comfort of his physical reality within his hands once more.   
  
Critically studying him, Obi-Wan nodded to himself, noticing with some worry that Anakin had reached out for some kind of tactile contact. Some reassurance that this, that Obi-Wan and him being together, was a reality. This need to have a part of him within his reach troubled him. He hoped that soon Anakin would relax, feeling safe enough here that he would not need to constantly be reassured through physical touches. He wasn’t sure if he could handle this neediness in the boy for constant tactile reassurance.   
  
Still, the fact that Anakin had been able to leave his side for a little while and come back, calm and composed, was an improvement. Obi-Wan nodded in satisfaction, meeting his curious gaze. “It is as I thought, they are just about your size. Did you bring many clothes with you?”   
  
Shaking his head, he followed him back into the dinning area and sat down beside him. “Only what was in the ship,” he said quietly, fingering the cloth. He knew he was making Obi-Wan uncomfortable but just couldn’t stop needing to have something real in his hands. “Master Jinn always said I should be prepared for an emergency, so I had some stuff ready if the time ever came.”   
  
Surprisingly practical of Master Jinn, Obi-Wan thought, knowing that his Master had usually just trusted in the Living Force to take care of him. It had always been up to Obi-Wan to take care of the more practical side of their missions. Master Jinn had often complained that Obi-Wan had lacked a sense of adventure. Had lacked a sense of trust in the Force that guided their lives.   
  
Obi-Wan preferred to think that he was realistic.   
  
Adventure was all well and good in theory but if you couldn’t survive because of a lack of foresight and planning, it did you little good in the long run. He did not doubt that the Force would help them out. He just preferred to have some hand in it.   
  
Frustrating though he knew his friends found it, he did not like surprises. “All right. Tomorrow, we’ll go through the rest of the clothes and see what else we can find for you. Besides, we need to clear it out, you will need a room of your own.”   
  
Though he knew it had been coming, Anakin felt rejection’s painful sting. Holding onto the promise Obi-Wan had made, he smiled brightly, as though the words didn’t hurt him at all.   
  
His smile was painfully brittle though.   
  
Obi-Wan was not fooled by it. “Anakin, I want you to know that if you ever need anything, you can always come to me. Just because you will have your own room does not mean that you cannot come to me for help or comfort. I only want you to have a place of your own. A place that is yours to do with as you wish for it will be yours, a place that you may consider your sanctuary. As hard as it may be for you to believe right now, there will be times when you will want absolutely nothing to do with me. All right?”   
  
“All right,” he agreed, resigned to his fate. He would rather stay with Obi-Wan but he understood that the man had a need for a place of his own.   
  
He just wished that it wasn’t so far away from him.   
  


* * *

  
  
“Master Windu?”   
  
“Yes, Knight Vos?” Mace asked, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. Closing his eyes, he breathed a sigh of relief for it gave him a break from his contemplation of the data pad in his hand. No matter how many times he looked at it, the results did not change. Master Jinn had fallen to a Sith before he could complete negations with the Idans.   
  
Not only that, they were now refusing to have any Jedi – or any ambassador of the Republic – anywhere near their sector of space.   
  
It was most troublesome. The sector they inhabited was one of the most trafficked part of the Galaxy and they needed an alliance with them to be assured of safe passage. Not only for the Republic but also for those who worked the space routes.   
  
When Quinlan remained silent, unsure, Mace looked over at him. “Is this about Padawan Skywalker? Is he not settling down in your quarters?”   
  
“See, that’s just it,” he hesitated a moment longer, watching the way Mace’s eyes narrowed in impatience and suspicion. He, like all the others who had ever been on the receiving end of those eyes, hated that look. “Padawan Skywalker, sir, he’s not where I left him.”   
  
Shooting up from the couch, he composedly yelled, “What?”   
  
“I only stepped out for a moment,” he quickly spoke, rushing through the words, barely taking a moment to breath as he did so. “Master Allie came by to talk to me about Anakin. About the fact that he isn’t speaking to anyone at all. She says it isn’t healthy for him to be so silent after what happened. She thinks that he needs to talk about it. I didn’t think any harm would come if I stepped outside to talk to her. When I looked in to check on him, he wasn’t in bed. I thought at first that he might’ve needed to use the fresher. Upon realizing he wasn’t even in my apartment, we searched the whole building, he wasn’t anywhere. And that’s not the worst of it.”   
  
“There’s more?” Mace asked, remaining outwardly calm though inside he was far from it.  
  
He was worried about the boy, more worried than he dared to reveal – and not just because of what had happened to Master Jinn. For all the trouble that he could cause – and that was quite a lot, he admired Anakin Skywalker for his persistent determination. For the way he kept at it no matter what difficulties had been thrown into his path. And with the Sith on the loose…Anakin Skywalker was too tempting a target to pass up.   
  
“That ship he built?” he started to say.   
  
Mace waved him off. “It’s not where it should be, is it?” Though it sounded like a question, it wasn’t. “Well, he might be indulging in one of his…pastimes. Go to the lower areas of Coruscant, you know what I speak of,” there was the slightest sound of wry humor in his voice, “Check them out. As repulsive as the races are, don’t try to stop them. Young Skywalker must be found. Right now, he is fragile and vulnerable he shouldn’t be alone. I will contact our operatives elsewhere, see what they can turn up.”   
  
“Yes, Master Windu.”   
  
“I shall, of course, notify the Jedi Council about what has occurred,” he sighed tiredly, a weight settling on his shoulders as his eyes closed momentarily. Rubbing the back of his neck, he admitted reluctantly. “I do wish we could handle this on our own. I hate to disturb Master Yoda – especially at this most sorrowful of times. He took the loss of Master Jinn harder than the rest of us.”   
  
“For all their differences of opinion, they admired each other.”   
  
“Yes,” Mace said, knowing that it was more than that. To Yoda, the Jedi were his children. It was often the ones that gave you the most trouble that meant the most to you. “It is essential that you find him, Quinlan, before anything happens. Not because of the prophecy but because he is one of ours. May the Force guide you.”   
  
“May it be with you as well, Master,” he bowed and left. Entering his own quarters, he shrugged off the robes that labeled him as Jedi and put on something more appropriate for the places he was going to visit for however long it took him to find the young boy. As silent as a shadow, he slipped off into the streets of Coruscant, bent on finding one lone Padawan.   
  
He wished that he would be easy to find but knew that it would not. Like many of the Temple inhabitants, he had heard much about Anakin Skywalker and his propensity for finding trouble quickly. Though a lovable and helpful child, some of his habits tended to be less so. They did not like his habit for building droids. Or bringing into the Temple odd creatures that needed help as Master Jinn had often done, for all that Master Yoda had laughed about it the many times it happened.   
  
Quinlan did not know how Qui-Gon had managed to survive the boy.  
  
Anakin Skywalker had all the energy of a group of Younglings - and then some. He was known to be both cheerful and prickly with those around him. At times, he was cautious and friendly, a rare case of guarded kindness. The boy was a walking, talking Paradox and none in the Temple had known quite what to make of him, for all that he was eager to please them.   
  
All he knew for sure was that he – like many others – was grateful it wasn’t him who had had to watch over him.   
  
************  
  
Mace Windu walked with as much dignity as he could muster with the fear of his urgency flowing through his veins into the Council’s chambers, noting that Master Plo-Koon and Knight Ki-Adi-Mundi were there already. Turning at a soft sound outside the door, he bowed to Masters Yareal Poof, Saesee Tiin and Even Piell as they entered, talking quietly with each other.   
  
Quietly conversing with them as he joined them, he waited patiently for the others to show up and wondered what he was going to say – and how he was going to say it. Never in all his life could he remember feeling so nervous – not even when he was being held up before the Masters for his chance to become a Padawan.  
  
Hearing a familiar, rhythmic tapping beat, he turned towards the door, seeing Master Yoda slowly enter, his wizened form bent with age. With him were Masters Adi Gallia, Eeth Koth, Yaddle, Oppo Rancisis, and Depa Billaba. They nodded to the others as they took their seats and waited patiently, though curiously, for him to tell them what emergency had occurred for no one called a session this late without a reason of some import.   
  
Mace stood in the center of the room and slowly turned so that he could look each of them in the eye. Yoda was the last one. He could barely bring himself to meet that gaze, older than he could ever recall the Jedi Master revealing in his perpetually young eyes. Taking a deep breath, he simply told them. “At some point tonight, Anakin Skywalker disappeared from the Jedi Temple. There appears to have been no struggle, so we believe that he has merely gone out on his own. At the moment, Knight Vos is searching for him.”   
  
It practically broke Mace’s heart when Yoda’s ears dropped, almost touching his shoulders. Absolute defeat showed in his face, in his eyes.   
  
“Foresaw trouble with this boy, I did. Much danger recall you all that in the boy I saw,” he said quietly, defeated for the first time in memory, reminding them of his words about Anakin three years earlier. About his objections in letting a boy so old be taken in and trained. “Clouded then his future was. Wrong then, was I. Cleared away much of the shroud Master Jinn’s actions did. Hope began to shine. Great is the loss of one who saw into the Living Force and took the boy with him. Darkness is heavy in his future, for his light is threatened once again. No way to lift it do I see.”   
  
“Master Yoda, forgive me for saying so,” Adi Gallia began and waited for him to acknowledge her. Though the look in the eyes he turned on her hurt, she pressed on anyway. “But you could be wrong. If Padawan Skywalker’s fate had changed before, it may be possible that it could be altered again.”   
  
“How see you this change?”   
  
“Well,” she hesitated, not expecting the question. Floundering for a moment, she regained her balance and put her feelings into words as best as she could. “If Padawan Skywalker was trained by someone who was aware of the danger posed by his clouded future but could overlook it, it could be changed. Master Jinn knew it. He said many it many times, his future was uncertain.”   
  
“And where are we going to find someone like that?” Master Plo-Koon demanded, somewhat harshly. “No one here wants anything to do with him. He’s rash and impatient, to excitable and has a habit of rushing off, leaving many of his tasks undone.”   
  
“Now, that’s not quite true. Anakin Skywalker may be many things but he was raised to be a conscientious boy,” Even Piell said softly, resting his head on his hand. “Though we may object to the way he clings to his upbringing, his mother taught him to finish any task placed before him. He has many good qualities.”   
  
“But his faults outweigh many of them. You can’t deny that his propensity for building droids and leaving them all over the place is…irritating,” Depa Billaba pointed out, a slight frown on her young face. “I cannot tell you how many times I have run into them. If not for Master Windu’s very pointed objection, we would have more droids here than Jedi.”   
  
“And what about his racing?” Knight Ki-Adi-Mundi added, face puckered up disapprovingly. “I realize that all children are high spirited but he is more than that. As the Chosen One, he should be more responsible, more level headed. Instead, he goes off and runs in those dreadful pod races. Pod races we have been asked to ignore because many in the Senate benefit from them.”   
  
“Master Jinn said he was a talented racer. Let him stay with the thing that he loves the most, pod racing. He will be cared for. A youth with his skill will find little trouble making it on the racing circuit,” Oppo Rancisis pointed out.   
  
“He’s just a boy,” Master Eeth Koth said, appalled at the idea of letting Anakin go free, unprotected. “No matter how we personally feel about him, we have taken him into our arms. We have made him one of our own.”   
  
“And he has shown on many occasions that to be one of us, to accept our ways, is not what he wants. He does not desire to follow our rules,” Saesee Tiin reminded him. For all the understanding in his voice, there was also a hardness that’s meaning couldn’t be escaped. “If we cannot trust him to follow our ways, then we must let him go. Better that he finds his own way now than later.”   
  
“Not fit to be a Jedi, he is,” Master Yaddle agreed firmly, “To impetuous for our ways.”   
  
“There is no Master here who would have him,” Master Billaba quietly commented, her face pinched with sorrow at her words, though her voice remained strong. The truth in the words saddened her. But there it was, none of them knew how to handle what was - in essence - a wild child.   
  
Mace hung his head for a moment. He agreed with their assessment of things – and yet he disagreed with them for the way they thought of the young Skywalker. They were ready to let Anakin Skywalker be forgotten because he challenged their perception of things. Challenged the way they had done things for centuries. Whether right or wrong, they could not ignore what he may very well turn out to be.   
  
The Chosen One that had been prophesied to come and balance the Force. Nor could they forget the grave danger the child was in – that they were all in. “Have you forgotten the Sith?”   
  
That silenced them momentarily. “Yes,” Even Piell slowly said, “There is always that threat to him and us were he to fall in with them.”   
  
Yareal Poof slowly lifted his deep-set eyes and looked at them all in turn. When he spoke, they listened to him carefully for he rarely spoke up unless he had a good reason. “We should not allow our own perceptions of the boy cloud us to the danger that he is in. He is, for all his strengths, merely a child. A Sith looking for him – and finding him – would be detrimental to us all. Not just to those of us who are Jedi but to the Republic for the Sith would bring this government that we serve crashing to its feet if allowed the chance. We owe it to those we serve to find him.”   
  
“Are we to bring him back to avoid the possibility of this?” Master Rancisis demanded an honest answer from each and every one them. In his voice was the quiet confidence and authority of long years in the service of others. “We are _**Jedi**_ and have a responsibility to face any threat that has come to the Republic. We do not fear what the Sith may bring upon us.”   
  
“Perhaps we should for this warrior has sprung up out of nowhere. He has killed two of our order before. There have always been two, where is the Master? Where is the Apprentice now? Which one is the one whose face we have seen? They have changed, grown strong enough to avoid our detection. We cannot afford to give them a greater advantage over us than they already have,” Master Gallia pointed out. “The Sith have shown us their face and it is a face that we do not know. We must find them. If the prophecy is correct, then only the Chosen One can do so.”   
  
“Are we even sure that he is the Chosen One?” Saesee asked, having little confidence in the prophecy. He was one of the few who sat on the Jedi Council who did – and spoke of his doubt freely.  
  
“Does it matter?” Mace asked, looking at them all in turn. “He is a Jedi Padawan. He is one of our own...”   
  
“Safe he is,” Yoda interrupted him suddenly, voice full of quiet awe. Their arguments instantly stilled, their heads whipped towards the Jedi Master and they stared at him, surprised to see that he seemed less burdened. Less aged than he had been when he first entered the room. A newness of life seemed to be upon him. “Safe he will remain. With Obi-Wan he is.”


End file.
